


Fighter

by captain_sassy_socks



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:13:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_sassy_socks/pseuds/captain_sassy_socks
Summary: On a diplomatic mission, Sam has to fend off sexual advances.
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	Fighter

Diplomatic missions are the worst, especially on a patriarchal planet where she has to play nice, or more specifically, dance with some pushy high-ranking male, a councilor or similar.

The treaty negotiation went well. Earth got their hands on some promising energy gaining technology she still hasn’t seen or assessed. Despite this undeniable fact, a thorough celebration of the newly formed relation was in order.

It would have probably been nice if the people they are dealing with treated women with respect. But no, Sam is the only female in a position of power or with more than one brain cell to attend other than wives or girlfriends. Or mistresses, she supposes.

Everywhere, there are trophies clinging to a man’s arm, only expected to look pretty and laugh at stupid jokes.

Inwardly, she cringes at their attitudes.

“You’re incredibly beautiful,” the smooth voice, accompanied by a lecherous grin, cuts through her thoughts.

The fake smile plastered on Sam’s faces tightens. Bile rises in the back of her throat.

Maybe she has swirled around for less than one minute, but it already feels like an eternity. Firm hands try to pull her closer and dig into her flesh. Fortunately, her uniform covers all reachable skin. Unfortunately, the persistent fingers on her lower back leave a sweaty imprint on the coarse material. Sam has no option to shy away since such a move would press her front closer to the sleazeball. She shudders at the thought of feeling his disgusting body against her. The muscles in her spine tense to the point of cramping.

This isn’t dancing anymore, it’s pure agony. She wishes she could ram her knee into his groin and end the facade. Somehow, the slow music doesn’t want to end.

Steeling herself once again against the ordeal, she surveys the ballroom over the man’s shoulder. Daniel gesticulates to a group of admiring listeners, Teal’c raids the buffet and Colonel O’Neill is nowhere in sight. Her eyes dart from one table to the next, across the room, toward the exit. She has no success detecting him.

The one time she needs him the most, he abandons her. Obviously.

“Later, when this formality is over, we retreat to my suite and I’ll show you a wonderful time.” The hungry gaze shifts to her breasts and back up to her face. “You won’t regret it.”

The scumbag has the nerve to voice such an indecent proposal. The aura of flaunted masculine superiority fuels the fury inside her.

“Isn’t your wife with you?” Sam tries to reason with him politely.

“She need not know,” he smirks.

The temptation to emasculate him increases.

His eyes become menacing. “No one has ever denied me,” he hisses as his possessive grip crushes her against his frame.

For a moment Sam freezes before her military training kicks in. There is no doubt in her mind what the threat entails as his growing arousal scorches the skin of her thigh.

“I don’t think so,” she throws back with vehemence and knees him in his balls.

With an agonizing cry, her dance partner falls to the ground and writhes in pain.

Sam clenches her fists beside her, ready to strike again. Fight overrules her instinct to flee as adrenaline rushes through her veins. She’ll teach him another lesson if he insists.

“You’ll regret that, bitch,” he howls with pain as he bends one leg and taps against the wooden floor repeatedly.

By now, the room has fallen silent. All eyes direct their attention at the scene on the dance floor.

A familiar shadow enters the periphery of her field of vision. “Leave her alone,” the steely voice warns, “or I’ll kill you myself.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me,” O’Neill growls and takes two steps to loom over him.

“Consider this treaty void,” the councilor snarls in a last, desperate effort to regain his dignity.

The Colonel’s steady gaze pierces him. “Fine by me.” He crouches down and informs the other man in an alarmingly calm tone, “I’ll count to three. If you’re not gone by then, you’ll be dead.”

“That’s outrageous!” the prick yells. His affronted eyes seek help from the attendees in the room.

“One.”

Not a single soul comes to his rescue.

“Two.”

With a fearful expression, the humiliated man scurries away.

Colonel O’Neill straightens and moves toward her. His hand grabs her elbow in support whereas his brown eyes implore her about her well-being. She detects concern, guilt, and a trace of pride reflected in them.

All tension drains from Sam’s body. Her shoulders slump and her fists unclench. “Thank you, sir.” She takes a deep breath of air in relief. "I'm fine."

He gauges her emotional state and the accuracy of the statement for a second. “Always.” The promise has never felt more earnest and true.

Their rest of the team appears at their side, panting. “You okay?” Daniel asks full of worry.

Sam nods, “Yeah, I’m fine now.” She looks at each of them in gratitude. Her teammates, the ones she trusts with her life and always have her back. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody messes with our Sam.


End file.
